What Iyami Once Was
by arimoreindeer
Summary: What if Osomatsu-kun was a false afterlife created by Iyami? What was everyone's favorite bucktoothed conman really like, and what things did he see? What if the truth was that Chibita was his roommate, Hatabou was a gloomy toy store owner, and the sextuplets were septuplets...and dolls? In this story, we discover the truth about who and what Iyami once was.


Our story begins with one certain man. He always has tears in his eyes and he roams around confused like a baby deer. His rib cage is visible and he has nothing to wear but a yellow pair of boxer shorts. This man's name was Iyami. His stomach rumbled repeatedly as a reminder he was famished. He found himself knelt in front of a French restaurant in hopes someone might take notice and feed him. Like that'll happen, he thought.

Iyami kept his head down and rhythmically tapped his fingers onto the pavement. The door swung open and he heard a voice above him.

"Excuse me, sir, this is an upperclass establishment, and we humbly request you leave the premises."

The teary eyed man looked up at the waiter with nothing to respond. He stretched and slowly picked himself up.

"Hey."

The somewhat distant yet still in earshot voice of another waiter hit Iyami's ears. "You know, you can at least give him one of the suits."

"The suits? Oh! The suits!" The waiter jutted out his finger and said, "Sir, wait just a moment."

Iyami flopped onto his stomach and began tapping on the pavement again, waiting patiently for the young waiter to return. It wasn't like he was bringing food or anything, but clothes were a close second. It was beginning to get cold with the season change, and Iyami didn't want to brace the upcoming cold front with nothing but bare skin.

The door swung open again and the same waiter was holding a gaudy pink tuxedo with armpit stains that also had matching pants. "This is one of the loan suits we used to let customers wear...it's getting old, so it's yours now."

Iyami slipped into the pink slacks immediately and began to put the suit on. By the time he had turned around to thank the waiter, he was already gone.

This was progress. He was still starving, but at least he had a full outfit now. This meant now he could actually walk into stores and perhaps look for free samples.

Iyami stretched and began to seek some food. A loud calling filled his ears and got bigger and bigger the closer he got.

"ODEN! FRESH ODEN HERE!"

An oden stand.

Iyami followed the voice until he found himself in front of the stand. The man running it had curly chestnut hair with amazing volume, which he obviously had contained in a hairnet. He had a very young and charming face.

"Thank you. Thank you, come again, now."

"H-hello."

The raspiness of Iyami's own voice surprised him. It wasn't often he spoke anymore. He had no need to, for there was no one with which to converse.

"Oh, hey. You want some oden? Only two hundred yen a stick."

"I want oden," he mumbled. "I don't have money though."

"Do you have a home or anything like that? Family?"

"No..." He began limping away from the oden stand.

"Wait."

Iyami turned back around, and the curly haired man tending the oden stand was looking directly at him.

"What's your name?"

"Iyami..." he said softly.

"Yami, you said?"

"Iyami," he repeated, a bit more loudly this time.

"Oh, Iyami, with an I. My name's Arata," he said, preparing an oden stick. "Here, it's on the house."

One would've thought Iyami had eaten this immediately, but he stared at it for a solid minute, still trying to register the fact in his head that someone actually gave him food. He hesitantly began to put it in his mouth, and he looked at Arata before biting down.

"Is it good?"

Iyami nodded, trying to savor its flavor.

Arata was looking down and preparing more sticks. He began to talk to Iyami to break silence. "Oden was my favorite since I was a little kid. Now I'm making it and selling it to people. Ain't that something?"

Iyami continued chewing and looked into Arata's eyes, paying close attention to every word he said.

"You know, people called me Chibita when I was little. It's because I was so short..." He chuckled. "People still call me that sometimes to irritate me. They also say my curly hair is gonna thin. Thin down to one solemn hair bobbing on my head."

"Why?"

"Work stress," Arata chuckled.

"It stresses you?"

"No, I love what I do."

The oden stand fell silent for a solid few seconds. Arata had stopped talking and Iyami was twiddling his thumbs with nothing to say.

"Oh, you finished eating. Do you want more?"

"Can I?" Iyami rasped nervously.

"You may...oh my, Iyami, your voice...does your throat hurt?"

Iyami clamped one hand over his neck.

"You know what? You can come to my apartment with me. I can give you some tap from there." Arata stretched and removed his hairnet, shaking out his hair.

"But, the oden stand."

"Oh, that? I can drag it to the complex, don't sweat it..."

Arata then got out of his seat and began to drag the oden stand behind him like a horse drawing a carriage.

"But you can't take the oden stand inside," Iyami stated, surprised at the length of his own sentence.

"I can just park it outside," Arata replied, not looking behind at him. "Don't worry about it, Iyami."

Iyami began to follow with much more pep in his step than before. He was dressed and fed and actually had made a friend.

"Iyami, you don't mind if I stop and say hi to a friend, do you?"

"No, that's okay...who is he?"

"The toy store owner, Hatabou."

How many friends does Arata have? thought Iyami. Perhaps he could introduce him to them all. Then they could help care for him and get him on his feet. They could go out to social dinners together and laugh over past times. Maybe-

"This it, Iyami."

Iyami shook himself. He was daydreaming about future possibilities so deeply that he got lost in his head.

The oden stand came to a halt in the toy store parking lot. Iyami followed Arata from behind. He still felt too insecure to walk directly next to him. Arata opened the door to the shop, the familiar bell chime hitting his and Iyami's ears.

The store was so small that you could see the dazed Hatabou at the checkout table from the front door. His head was down and he looked rather lethargic, suddenly perking up when the bell rang.

Arata approached him, Iyami following a few feet behind.

"Slow business day, isn't it, Hatabou?" asked Arata, making small talk.

"Very," he mumbled tiredly, laying his head back down. "Who's this smelly guy you dragged in?"

Iyami fumed and shuffled around until he was sure he was no longer in Hatabou's eyeshot. This was the friend of someone as nice as Arata?

"Oh, this is Iyami."

"Iyami smells. Go tell him to wash up."

"Hatabou, please!" Arata turned around to look at Iyami. "Don't mind him, Iyami, he gets grumpy on slow days. He's usually happier than this."

"Yeah, Iyami," groaned the toy store owner. "Looks like Chibita's still the liar he once was."

"Hatabou, stop! What did you just call me?"

"Chi-bi-ta."

"Why, you-!"

The whole situation made Iyami feel severely uncomfortable, so he decided to escape the discomfort by looking at the many toys that the shop was stocked with. Even as a grown man, he found it quite magical and it was a pleasant reminder of his youth. The quarrel happening between Hatabou and Arata had escaped his head by this point. If only he could relive what youth was. If only he could have children of his own.

That's when Iyami saw them.

Seven identical plush dolls lying in a basket. They were each around ten inches tall, all young boys wearing blue button down shirts and sporting the biggest smiles.

Iyami was immediately infatuated. He scooped up all seven of the dolls in his arms and carried them up front to where Arata and Hatabou were. The two of them were screaming to each other about some past issues Iyami didn't know about. He shyly and awkwardly tapped Arata's shoulder, using his other arm to hold the dolls against his chest.

Arata turned to his side and stopped mid-sentence. "Oh, Iyami, I'm... I'm sorry you had to see me act like this."

"It's fine..."

"What are those you have there?"

"I want them," Iyami said softly, caressing one of the dolls' heads.

Arata chuckled. "Why?"

Iyami looked down at the toys, finding it difficult to explain himself. He wanted to relive youth, and it was a long time since he had actually owned anything. He thought that would be a bit of an odd thing to try to explain to Arata. He decided to lay all the dolls onto the checkout table in front of Hatabou.

"Do you really need all seven?" asked Arata.

"Septuplets."

"Oh, I see. I suppose I could buy them for you if you want them that much. I can tell. I see it in your eyes."

Iyami beamed.

"What'll it be, Hatabou?"

"Three thousand yen for all of them."

"What? That's a lot..."

"Five hundred yen for each doll? That's fair! This is my store! If you aren't paying, get out!"

Iyami really wanted them, but he didn't want to express this so much to Arata. He didn't want to come off like a spoiled child who didn't appreciate the nurturing he had been given. He didn't ask for the food. He didn't ask to be taken home and hydrated. He certainly didn't need to ask Arata to buy these admittedly useless toys for him.

Arata put 2000 yen on the checkout table. "This is all the oden profits I made today."

"You can only buy five of them with this much."

"I'm aware..."

Hatabou sighed. "You know what? Take them. Take all seven. Someone deserves to be happy, even if it's not me." He slammed his palm onto the money and slid it back to collect it.

Iyami scooped up the seven dolls and hugged them all at once.

"Hatabou, really, I think you need help."

"Why do you care, Chibita?" scoffed the shop owner.

"You've been far more upset than usual. It's legitimately concerning. I remember when you used to be so happy."

Hatabou exhaled from his nose and his eyes traced around, his body not moving a muscle. "My dad."

"Your dad? What about him?"

"He's...he's not coming home."

"I...I'm sorry Hatabou..."

"He's not coming home!" he cried with the same grumpy expression, but he had tears in his eyes now. "How can I be happy when he's not coming home?"

"Hatabou, I'm sorry! I don't know what to say to you..."

"Before he left, he showed me a flag," Hatabou began, his voice suddenly bursting with energy and expression. "He said, 'Son, this is the reason I must go. This is why. For the sake of this nation.' I was barely six. He kept coming home and going only to leave again. I was a kid, of course, so I didn't get it. He told me 'Son, once I'm finished with my duties...this flag will be yours.'"

"I...Hatabou, I didn't know-"

"And this morning I find out...I'm never getting that flag. I'm not gonna get it. I want to be a kid. I want to be once again be oblivious to what it was my dad was doing. But no, I'm an adult now who realizes that things aren't so happy. Nearly every day I see these children who were what I once was. I want to be that again. I want to be that..."

"So...is that why you let Iyami have the dolls?"

"That's...that's precisely why. I want him to feel young. I feel as if that's what he's wanting, too..."

Iyami looked down at the toy store owner who was breathing at an alarmingly fast rate. "Thank you, Mr. Hatabou."

"I'm...I'm sorry for what I said about you earlier, Iyami...and Arata, you too."

Arata put his hand on Hatabou's head. "No, no, you're okay...you know, there are depression hotlines you can call."

"Y-yeah...I'll consider it...thanks..."

"Well, I think we best be getting home now," said Arata. "See ya, Hatabou."

The bell rang behind them.

Arata grabbed onto his oden stand and began to drag it behind him once more. Iyami was following, but he was looking down at his septuplets. He didn't take his eyes off of them.

"Now Iyami, let's finally get you that glass of water."

Admittedly, he had forgotten all about that.

"My apartment complex is pretty close to Hatabou's store. We've known each other since grade school."

"He called you Chibita."

Arata paused for a moment and sighed. "Yeah, he did."

"Were you mad at him?"

"Not...mad, just frustrated."

"Is Hatabou always like that?"

"No, this is pretty new for him to be acting like that. He used to be the most cheerful guy I've ever seen. But enough about him. I hope he gets help."

"I hope he's okay."

Iyami felt that he could relate to Hatabou somewhat. He didn't have a family - at least, not anymore - and he wished to once again be youthful. Maybe that's why he sold toys.

"Arata, do you always eat oden?"

"You mean, oden and only oden? Of course not! In fact, it's quite common for me to go get food from the local fishmonger."

"You like fish, Arata?"

"It's okay. Oden is better," Arata chuckled.

"I like fish."

"You do? Should we go get some?"

"Maybe later...I'm thirsty right now..."

"Oh right, your water! I'm sorry! Come on, let's go home..."

At last, Iyami and Arata landed at the apartment complex. Arata parked his oden stand out front, and Iyami increased his pace to walk alongside his friend. The door swung open and they went from pavement to carpet.

Iyami enjoyed the atmosphere of the apartment complex. It was breezy and clear, unlike anything he had ever seen before. He followed Arata up the stairs. At the top of the staircase, there were halls upon halls of apartments. It seemed endless. Arata's keys rattled when he took them out of his pocket, and he fiddled around with them until he had held the correct one.

"Welcome to my home, Iyami."

Arata's apartment was charmingly tiny. It seemed so peaceful. "Do you live by yourself?"

"Well, I did, but I decided something..."

"What did you decide, Arata?" Iyami had an exciting feeling that he knew, but he tried not to get his hopes up for it, just in case.

"You're a really cool guy, Iyami. I want... I want to adopt-"

Before he could even finish, Iyami jumped onto Arata immediately, his septuplet dolls falling out of his arms and onto the ground.

"Woah, somebody's happy!"

"Thank you so much, Arata! I can't...I can't thank you enough! Really! I..."

Indeed, he could not. Iyami had no idea how to express his intense gratitude towards Arata, but it was so great that he was in tears, locked in a tight embrace with his new roommate.

"Okay, okay! You can let go now!"

Iyami flopped onto his side and began nuzzling the floor, as if thinking, "This is mine. This is mine now."

"Hey, let me go get you that water now."

Iyami nodded and sat his seven dolls up. "How will I live here?" he asked.

"Easy, I have a guest room for such an occasion," Arata explained, filling up a cup with ice and water, "but I suppose now it's yours."

"Can you show me?"

"Sure." Arata handed Iyami his glass of water and escorted him to his new room. It looked sad and lonely, much like he once was. It was completely barren, not a single object or piece of furniture.

"There's nothing here."

"Yes there is..."

Arata stretched and opened the room's closet door. In it was an deflated blow up mattress. "You have a bed now."

"A bed! Hoorah!" Iyami jumped up and clicked his heels.

Arata tossed the deflated mattress out onto the ground. "You drink up. I'll inflate this for you."

Iyami held the cup with both of his hands, taking small sips and taking satisfied breaths between each sip. He watched Arata inflate the mattress with an air pump. Today was an amazing day. Iyami had gotten clothes, food, water, and a bed. He imagined that day would come eventually, but he never imagined it would be today.

Arata dug around in the closet a little more and pulled out a large comforter. He then tossed it onto the mattress. "Tada! Bed!"

Iyami jumped onto the mattress with comfort. He had a comfortable place to sleep. This was amazing. He then remembered he had left his little buddies in Arata's living room, so he dashed to go grab them.

"Where are you going, Iyami?"

He came back in a few seconds with his stuffed dolls in his hands. "The septuplets."

"I see," Arata chuckled. "You left the cup on the bed, you see. I'll go put it in the sink."

Iyami turned back as he did so, then sat his dolls up on the bed whilst counting them. "One, two, three, four, five, six- Only six?"

Iyami then heard a thud, followed by a cry of "OUCH!"

A grumpy faced Arata limped into Iyami's room with a familiar toy in his hand. "Iyami," he grumbled, "you left one of your dolls on the floor and I tripped over it."

"I'm...I'm sorry...get mad at me, not Choromatsu."

"They have names now?"

"They do!" Iyami exclaimed. "From oldest to youngest, their names are Osomatsu, Karamatsu, Choromatsu, Ichimatsu, Usomatsu, Jyushimatsu, and Todomatsu!"

"Got a little creative with the names, didn't we?" Arata laughed. "But should Ichimatsu be the first born? Wouldn't that make sense?"

"He and Osomatsu were switched at birth."

"Oh, I see." Arata sat Choromatsu up on the bed with his six brothers. "You know, I think Hatabou would be pleased to know how much you love these dolls."

"Would it make him happier?"

"Definitely. I'm sure it would. Besides, I wanted to stop at the fishmonger to pick up some dinner."

"Yum!" Iyami exclaimed. "But Arata, how come you don't have a car?"

"Everything I need is within walking space. It's too expensive for something I don't need. Wanna go visit the fishmonger with me?"

"Yeah!" Iyami jumped up and ran to the front door like an excited child that was just told he was going to the candy store.

Arata, at a much slower pace, limped to the front door with his key out. He unlocked the door and nodded towards Iyami before walking out the door.

When they had arrived to the fishmonger, he was at his stand, cleaning a fish. There were large fish hung by their tails up top in a similar fashion to stuffed animals one would win at a carnival game.

"Hey, Arata," he greeted, waving a gloved hand.

"Hello Dekapan."

"Hello, Mr. Fishmonger," whispered Iyami.

"Iyami, this is Dekapan," said Arata. "Dekapan, meet Iyami."

Iyami wanted to shake Dekapan's hand, but he withdrew his hand when he saw Dekapan's gloves smothered in fish guts. He was a very large man; he wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes, but his pants were ginormous and he had a yellow rain hat on. His face was very friendly and approachable.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Iyami," said Dekapan, professionally. "You're a friend of Arata's? He's one of my regulars."

"He adopted me."

"It's true," Arata confirmed. "I met him just earlier and now he lives in my apartment with me. Charming fellow."

"Well, that's lovely! You know, I've donated a lot of money to homeless shelters."

"That's very nice, but I've never lived in a shelter."

"Oh, I see! I shouldn't have assumed," he said apologetically, then looking towards Arata to ask, "So, what'll it be?"

Arata put the back of his hand against his forehead and groaned, "Stupid me, I forgot I didn't have any more money with me."

Dekapan shrugged. "Ah, it's okay! Here, you can take this salmon before it expires in a day...it should still be good! Only because you're such a good regular."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Dekapan! Remind me to repay you with oden some time. My treat!"

"Thanks for doing business!" Dekapan called behind him, "Totoko, sweetie! Come bring Mr. Arata the salmon that Daddy caught a day ago!"

"Ah, okay, Daddy!"

"Don't forget the gloves!"

The little girl Totoko was carrying a couple pounds of salmon meat, wearing latex gloves per her father's request. "Hello, Mr. Arata!"

"Hello, Totoko! Looking beautiful as always!"

"Thank you Mr. Arata! Do you have a new friend?" she asked, taking notice to Iyami.

"I do! This is Iyami. He's my new roommate."

"Hello, Mr. Iyami!"

"Hello Totoko," Iyami responded.

"It's getting late, Iyami. Let's go home and eat this up!"

"Of course! Let's go, Iyami!" He began to walk home with this roommate and turned behind him to say, "Bye Totoko and Dekapan!"

Back home, Arata had prepared the table with a nice cloth and had the utensils in a formal arrangement. He placed the plate of cooked and seasoned salmon in front of Iyami before placing his own.

"I'm sure this day has been extraordinary for you, Iyami."

He nodded in response. "Unbelievable."

Arata smiled at Iyami as he watched him savor the meat the he had prepared.

"You're a great cook, Arata."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. There's no one I'd prefer to adopt me," he gushed.

Arata was speechless. Iyami's words really tugged at his heart. He felt the heat in his cheeks that came with blushing and gave a soft smile.

Iyami stretched and put his cleaned plate into the sink. "It's getting a bit late now. I'll be getting to bed."

"You go do that," Arata called out, as Iyami tiredly limped into his room. He took a soda out of the mini fridge and sat on the couch.

"I'll just be watching TV if you need me. I'll get you a glass of water if you need it. I'll tuck you in..."

There was no response.

An hour later, Arata walked into Iyami's room, attempting to minimize the noise his feet were making. He wanted to make sure his beloved roommate was making it okay in his new home. He knelt at Iyami's bedside, looking down at the slumbering angel. Iyami had a sweet grin and was holding his doll Osomatsu as well as his six brothers, appearing to nuzzle them. His back was making slight motions up and down as he breathed. It gave Arata the mental image of Dekapan the fishmonger sailing on a stormy night, waves crashing onto the hull, lightning crashing at sea and the old fisherman reeling in a feisty swordfish. Arata patted his sleeping friend's back and fastened his blanket. "Yeah, he'll be fine."

He was definitely fine at first.

Months went by, and that was the day everything changed.

"Hey, Iyami, it's Tuesday, let's go."

The two of them had established that every Tuesday, they would go to visit Hatabou, who had been having therapy. They'd bring oden to Hatabou to show him that they cared. He was definitely getting mentally stronger.

So had Iyami. He had warmed up to Arata a lot, so he was far more talkative than he was when they had first met. The familiar rattling of Arata's keys emitted.

"I'm happy Hatabou's getting better," Arata said. "I bet he'll be fully healthy in a few months."

"I think so too. I hope he'll get all better really soon."

When the two of them got to the parking lot, Arata began to drag his oden stand behind him.

Then they made it to the toy store. Swing, ring, Hatabou pops up, the whole deal.

Hatabou actually didn't lay his head on the front table anymore like he used to. He still sat at a bit of a slouch, but it was progress. He didn't look as grumpy, either. Instead, he wore a neutral expression. At his table, there was a cup full of flags that empathetic customers had left.

The door was wide enough so that an entire oden stand could fit, but it did take up quite a bit of area.

"Hello, Arata and Iyami," muttered the toy salesman.

"Hi Hatabou!" Iyami exclaimed, handing a stick of oden to him. Arata did the same.

Hatabou took a bite out of one, acting humble but secretly grateful.

"It's tasty, like it usually is," Hatabou said with no tone.

Suddenly, a sharp pain jutted into Iyami's gut, feeling like a chain being pulled onto him and being impaled by spikes.

"Arata..." Iyami moaned.

"Iyami? You okay?"

"Nauseous..."

He collapsed onto Arata's shoulder, falling onto his knees."

"Sorry Hatabou," Arata sputtered. "Gotta cut this short. This guy needs to go home."

"Arata..."

Arata held the limp Iyami in his arms. "Dude, I'm worried for you! How much does it hurt?"

Hatabou sprung up. "I'll call the doctor! This looks serious!"

...

...

...

"Iyami."

His eyelids slowly parted, and he was immediately caught off guard by the hospital lights. He kept his eyes halfway closed, but immediately recognized the voice of his chestnut-haired oden chef.

"Iyami, it's me."

"Arata..."

"Iyami, you started having spasms. The doctor says there's a slim chance you'll make it."

Iyami sighed. He noticed the beeping of a nearby heart monitor.

"But...he did say that chance was slim..."

Arata grabbed a soft toy from Iyami's bed that he had placed earlier. "Look, I brought them to you."

"Osomatsu..."

Iyami reached for the doll, and Arata handed it to him. He grasped it very lightly with his hands, gently smoothing his hand across its face.

The doctor walked into the room, holding sheets of paper. He was very wide faced and had sporadic facial hair. "Mr. Arata, unfortunately I must bear bad news."

"No..."

Iyami's heart monitor became slowing down. The sound made Arata's heart sink into his stomach.

"Let's hope for the best," sighed the doctor. "Let's pray for a miracle."

Arata leaned over Iyami, putting his hand on his face. "Iyami, please stay with us. I want you to see Hatabou get better."

"Hatabou...gets better?"

"I hope so. Look at him now already. He's been in much better moods. It's only a matter of time until he fully recovers."

"I want Hatabou to be happy..."

"Me too...and I need you to live. Please. Think of Dekapan the fishmonger. Think of his sweet little daughter, Totoko. You and her used to make funny faces to each other...play tag...she's gonna miss you..."

"Totoko..."

"And..." Arata sighed and buried his face into his hands. "Most of all...I'm gonna miss you."

"I'm gon' missyoutoo..."

Iyami's hearing began to fade along with his self awareness. He had one mental look back. Arata. Oden. Hatabou. He's getting better. His dolls...the septuplet dolls. Dekapan the fishmonger. Having dinner with Arara. Playing with Totoko. The waiters from the French restaurant. French. France?

"France."

"Iyami?"

"F-France. France."

"Iyami? Why are you talking about France?"

"Arata..."

"Iyami! What are you saying? Are you leaving us?"

"Arata...I love..."

Tears clouded Arata's eyes. "Iyami! No!"

He grabbed one of Iyami's dolls and held it close to his chest. He associated it with his best friend. It was a symbol of Iyami's love. "I'm gonna keep...him. I hope you don't...mind..."

His voice squeaked and cracked.

The doctor approached Iyami's bedside, and he too begins to speak. "Don't die on us. Don't die on us. Don't die on us...die on...die on..."

Flatline...

...

...

...

Our story begins with one certain man. He had comically large buck teeth and a flashy pink tuxedo. He had a goofy pencil mustache and an odd way of speaking. This man's name was Iyami.

"Where is me zansu?"

...

"Why is me talking like that, zansu?"

Iyami began panting and taking in his odd surroundings.

A somewhat rusty squeaking sound, similar to a shopping cart, became larger and larger. A small child with green overalls and a flag on his head was riding a tricycle, chasing another child.

"Chibita, will you play with me jo?" he asked.

"Is that...?"

Chibita, a short bald child with a single hair, ran away from the flag boy with irritation. "Not now, Hatabou! Idiot! I've got oden to go eat! You go play on your own!"

"Jo..."

It was them.

Looks like Hatabou got his youth and his flag after all, but...

Why were they children? Why did they look like this? Why did HE look like this? Where was he?

Then, Iyami saw Dekapan the fishmonger...only he wasn't a fishmonger, it seemed. His rain hat was missing; instead, he was just wearing his gigantic britches. Oddly enough, he seemed to be hanging out with the doctor from the emergency room. His cries were like a bullhorn. "Dayooooon... dayooooon... dayoooooon..."

He remembered hearing that before.

Iyami's ears got crowded by a familiar giggle. Like the one he heard when playing with the fishmonger's daughter...

Totoko. It's her.

She's a few years older.

She was running around and looking behind her several times, as if being chased by something or someone.

That's when Iyami saw them.

Six identical children running in a row. They were each around five feet tall, all young boys wearing blue button down shirts and sporting the biggest smiles.

His jaw dropped open and felt frozen in that position. They were alive? They were real?

He stopped the sextuplets in their tracks, breathing heavily and with a heartbeat that could cause the organ to jump out of his chest.

"It's them zansu!" Iyami cried. "Osomatsu, Karamatsu, Choromatsu, Ichimatsu, Usomatsu, Jyushi..."

He stopped naming them off and tilted his head. "Where's Todomatsu?"

"I'm Todomatsu," said one of the sextuplets. "Who's...who's Usomatsu?"

"Wait, wait, wait! There's supposed to be seven of you, zansu! Septuplets!"

"Umm, no," Todomatsu replied. "There was only ever six of us. We never had a seventh brother named Usomatsu."

How could that be? There was seven of them! Wasn't there?

"Who are you, anyway?" asked one sextuplet.

So the sextuplets didn't recognize him...and one of them inexplicably disappeared. Did no one else know who he was? Did his beloved friend Chibita forget him?

No. He couldn't have. The guy who had adopted him? No! He had to have remembered!

Iyami immediately rushed over to the oden-gobbling child. "Ara...Chibita," he panted.

"Iyami?"

Iyami's eyes widened.

"Iyami!" The child jumped into Iyami's arms, laughing and tugging at his mustache.

"Uhyo! He remembers!" Iyami exclaimed, giving Chibita a noogie.

Chibita remembered unlike someone.

Day after day, Iyami slowly but surely forgot who he was.

He forgot why he loved Chibita so dearly, but still gave him affection.

He forgot that Dayon was the last person he heard speak to him, and he tended to pay no mind to him.

He forgot that Dekapan helped supply him with food, and he took advantage of his kindness.

He forgot that Totoko was the sweetest little girl he had ever known.

He forgot that Hatabou was struggling with psychological issues and decided to pick on him for his oblivion, not remembering all the reasons why he shouldn't.

He forgot that the sextuplets brought him through hard times, and he began to victimize them and turn their life into a living hell just because they got on his nerves.

He wasn't Iyami anymore.

He was a new Iyami. Cane swinging, pencil twirling, buck toothed Iyami.

His life was a joke now. Literally, a joke. People laugh at him not knowing what he once was. Iyami didn't know what he once was, either.

"Osomatsu-kun is about to begin! Sheeeeh!"

Uchi no tochan wa sarariman...


End file.
